


Jump in the Saddle

by trillingstar



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Bendy Straws, Community: sga_saturday, Crack, Gen, Humor, Music, Tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-25
Updated: 2011-10-25
Packaged: 2017-10-25 02:38:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/270815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trillingstar/pseuds/trillingstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John searches for some action on Saturday night.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Jump in the Saddle

**Author's Note:**

> Written for prompt #22, shake, on [sga_saturday](http://sga-saturday.livejournal.com/57463.html). Thank you to Ozsaur for the pompoms.  
> 

"Another Saturday night, and I ain't got nobody..."

John eyed the radio receiver. The preprogrammed AI "deejay" was supposed to choose songs at random, but it had gotten stuck in a rut of the vocal stylings of Cat Stevens. ATLN 52.0, Radio Atlantis, had promised John that baby, it was a wild world, and it was hard to get by just upon a smile. Before that he'd been urged to get his bags together to board the peace train.

Sighing, John tapped his earbud. "McKay, this is Sheppard, come in."

A few seconds later, Rodney responded. "M-mmcKay here, what?"

John heard a rattling noise in the background on Rodney's end. "What're you doing?"

"N-nn-nothing," Rodney said. "I mean, wor-rrr-k! Important work. Don't bother me."

"Are you in the West End again?" John asked, trying not to laugh. Recently, the city exploration squad had found a room full of cushy chairs, each one hooked up to some kind of battery – basically the Ancient equivalent of massage chairs, only these had nozzles on the armrests that wafted out bursts of yummy-smelling things like sugar cookies, vanilla, and buttercream frosting. They were also heated, had sixteen different speeds and variety of pulses, vibration and thumps, and Rodney had pretty much moved into the room.

"None of your, um, ummm... _mmmmm_... business, Colonel," Rodney snapped. "It's Saturday night; I'm allowed to be wherever I want, that's the whole concept of a night off."

"Don't shake yourself apart," John said, then clicked off.

Cat sang, "I'm gonna have to blow this town..."

"Copy that," John said. Swinging his legs sideways off the bed, he shoved his feet into a pair of sneakers, and then pulled on a long-sleeved shirt. Surely someone was doing something worth checking out.

~

Padding down the hall, John heard the sound of applause coming from the rec room, so he swung by, hoping there was a good movie playing. They'd finally gotten the gigantic pull-down screen operational, which made a difference for the purist's enjoyment of both the horror and action genres.

The door was ajar, and John peered through the crack. The room was packed, so he took the chance and slipped inside.

Holy crap. At a guess, nine-tenths of the female population of Atlantis was crammed into the room, taking up every available seat and surface, and they had not held back with the snacks. The rich butter and salt smell of popcorn stormed up his nose, and his stomach growled involuntarily, the sound loud enough to be heard over the crinkle of candy wrappers and the distinctive _shk-shk_ of Junior Mints being shaken out of their boxes.

"John!" That was Teyla's voice, and he glimpsed her waving arm from somewhere deep within in the mass of people.

It seemed that the entire crowd acted as one being, turning its many, many heads and staring at him through narrowed eyes, then completely dismissing him to refocus on the screen, where a blonde woman was yelling at a bunch of middle-aged couples dressed in garish summertime resort wear.

"Oh, come on, ladies. God wouldn't have given you maracas if He didn't want you to shaaaaaake 'emmmm!"

Someone whooped, and many people laughed. John panted out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He lifted one hand in a weak wave, and then backed out of the room. Slowly... slowly... he pushed the door closed, all the way, so no one else would feel the need to satisfy their curiosity.

The empty hallway had never felt safer, and John closed his eyes, taking a deep, centering breath.

"Problem, sir?"

"Christ on a cracker," John said, gasping, his eyes popping open. "Major."

"Sir, you didn't – you didn't go in there, did you? I mean, I put it in your calendar, sir. So you wouldn't." Lorne looked concerned.

"No sweat," John said, aiming for nonchalance. "Just wanted to make sure, uh, you know. Everything was good."

"Uh-huh," Lorne said. "Sir, if you're looking for something to do, there's a Jenga tournament in the mess."

"That's where you're headed?" John asked, extra sensitive to the volume level of their voices. He walked away from the rec room, hoping Lorne was smart enough to follow.

"Yep!" Lorne sounded cheerful. "Souka's firing up the milkshake machine, and the Athosians brought in a couple bushels of berries. I heard there's gonna be bendy straws."

"Wow," John said. He shook his head. "Nah, you go on ahead, I'll catch up. Going to see what Ronon's up to."

"Suit yourself, sir," Lorne said, sketching out a salute and jogging away, leaving John standing alone in the corridor.

~

John found Ronon in the smaller gym where he and Teyla sparred, and Ronon wasn't alone.

Standing just outside the arch of the doorway, John watched Radek and Ronon doing something – he hesitated to call it dancing – that involved pointing off into space while wiggling their butts around, all set to music. John had never ever wanted to know what either of them looked like in the sack, but it was too late now, because the images of short squats and easy thrusts and soft grunts were never ever going to leave his brain. John moaned despondently, careful to keep quiet.

Who in the Pegasus galaxy would ever have thought that Zelenka knew all the words to a song that featured lyrics such as "Wanna thank your mother for a butt like that... can I get some fries with that shake, shake, booty..." and the sassy little hip bump that knocked him up close to Ronon was indubitably John's cue to leave, which he did, backing away. Slowly... slowly... this gym needed a door that he could shut. Firmly. Unnoticed.

Moving backwards, John kept his eyes trained on the entrance, just in case. He tapped his radio. "McKay."

The music changed. "Tell 'em to shake it! Shake it! Shake it! Shake that healthy butt!"

"McKay!" John said.

"Oh my god, oh my gawwwwd," Rodney groaned, sounding blissful. "No, Sheppard, I don't care what you touched or where you're stuck or what kind of trouble you've gotten into this time. I'm never leaving this room and you can't make me."

"I'm not stuck anywhere!" John said, affronted. "You're the one with the sticky fingers."

"Sticky..." Rodney hummed. "Sticky buns. Bear claws. With icing."

There was a tinny beeping noise on his end, and then Rodney took a big sniff, right in John's ear.

"Never leaving," he repeated, and clicked off.

~

John wandered around, avoiding the common areas and passing only a couple other loners in the hallways. He wound up outside the infirmary, and then inched his way in, not hiding behind one of the support posts, just getting the lay of the land before making his presence known.

Dr Keller wasn't on duty, but she was standing among a knot of nurses, talking, their heads bent over something, and John craned his neck, standing on tiptoes. A bubble of laughter from one of them, and then John heard the familiar _clink_ of glass-on-glass, and someone said, "Cheers!"

Everyone raised a shot glass and threw back the contents, and John felt a swell of relief. Finally! Something worth doing on a Saturday night!

He started forward, about to join the party, when he heard a snippet of conversation. "...and wouldn't you know, Colonel Sheppard walked by, shaking his ass..."

Whoooaaa, what? John made a strategic retreat, stepping back behind the post. His face felt hot.

"Oh, I know. And how he's always bending over or crouching down, showing off his undies," someone said. John thought it might be Dr Biro. And seriously? He had an active job! There was lots of lifting and kneeling involved!

"I'd like him to bend over my desk," someone else said, and there was a throaty murmur of agreement from the assembled staff, and John's mouth fell open. Drinking in the infirmary! What was this, a frat house? Didn't these people have rooms?!

John backed away, not bothering with slowness this time, and once out in the hall, he raised McKay on the radio again.

"This had better be good," Rodney growled.

"I'm coming to you," John said.

A pause, and then Rodney said, "Okay. But I may have sort of used up most of the flavor crystals. Just so you know."

"All I need is a cushion," John replied. "And some quiet. No music, no movies, no board games, and definitely no alcohol."

"Whatever," Rodney said. "These chairs, I swear. They'll shake all the trouble from your mind. Not that I had any trouble. Not that you have any trouble. Hurry up so I can stop talking."

"On my way." John reached the transporter. He searched on the screen for the sector where Rodney had taken up residence. Music piped into the space. "...bend over, let me see you shake your tail feather, twist it, shake it, shake it, shake it, shake it baby..."

Resistance was futile. John sighed, looked both ways, and then wiggled his butt.  


**Author's Note:**

> If you're curious, the music/shake references are from: Harry Belafonte - Shake Shake Senora; Cat Stevens - Another Saturday Night, Wild World, Peace Train; Pet Shop Boys - West End [Girls]; Dirty Dancing - Penny's line; Jenga! "Once you touch it, you can't keep your hands off it." (rarz!); milkshakes, natch; Salt N Pepa - Shoop; Sir Mix-A-Lot - Baby Got Back; Johnny Cash - Get Rhythm; Blues Brothers - Shake A Tail Feather.  
> 


End file.
